


Yours and Mine

by speedgriffon



Series: I Shall Taunt You a Second Time | Dragonborn Fiona Fics [9]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-31 07:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20788889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedgriffon/pseuds/speedgriffon
Summary: A nightmare, a break-in and an abundance of emotions. Fiona says “I love you” for the first time.





	Yours and Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a prompt on tumblr for "Don't you ever do that again" that just got carried away. I got a bunch of asks over the last few days and with some wine, felt inspired as hell.

_“I’ll be certain to give Brynjolf your regards._”

_Mercer’s wicked, self-satisfied grin was all too clear, even through the haze of the poison racing through her veins. He crouched over her paralyzed body and peered down at her with that golden longsword drawn, brimming with magical energy. He wasn’t hesitating, no, he was watching her squirm—the sick bastard. _

_She felt a crash of emotions—but at the forefront of her mind was the regret she’d be taking to her grave—she thought of Brynjolf one last time as the blade sliced against her throat and then—nothing. _

_Only darkness. _  
  


* * *

Fiona sprang out from her bedsheets with a startling gasp, her throat tight and heart racing as if it would beat right out of her chest. The scar along the right side of her neck burned and she instinctively reached up to feel at it, almost expecting to feel the sticky touch of blood, but there was nothing. The skin was still incredibly sensitive, the jagged lines far from fading away—she would wear the mark Mercer left for the rest of her days. She inhaled deeply, desperately trying to steady her breathing but couldn’t shake the nightmare away.

She glanced to the empty void next to her and frowned, reminding herself she had no reason to be upset. Since her and Karliah’s return to Riften, Brynjolf had on more than one occasion stayed the night _for protection_—not that Fiona really needed it, but she had welcomed his company and comfort. Their _relationship_ was different now—yet to have a definition, but it was obvious they were now far from being the _just friends_ from before. If they ever really were “just friends” to begin with. In that moment, her mind still hazy with the memory of Snowveil Sanctum, she found her heart aching for Brynjolf, wishing he was there to sooth the pain away. He was one of the few people that truly understood. 

The only reason he wasn’t there that evening was because he was chasing a lead with Delvin, hoping to corner one of Mercer’s contacts in Shor’s Stone for information, wanting to confirm what they had found in Riftweald Manor. Karliah was also away, busy making some kind of preparations that would eventually involve both Fiona and Brynjolf—only time would tell.

Just as Fiona resigned to settle back against the pillows, she heard a rustling at her front door, the eastern entrance. She froze in her spot, listening intently as the scratching continued—was it an animal? The doorknob wiggled as she realized _someone_ was attempting to wiggle the lock lose. Her chest tightened with a new wave of fright, even as she convinced herself that nobody was _that_ stupid to break into the Dragonborn’s homestead. Even _Mercer_.

The thought of his name made her skin crawl and had her jumping from her bed and grabbing her dagger from her nightstand, silently but swiftly stepping towards the door. Just as she made it to the frame the sounds stopped and all fell silent, but only for a moment. The next sound Fiona heard was creaking, _footsteps_ across her roof. Panic began to coarse through her and for a split second she thought about _shouting_ through the ceiling, not caring about the destruction it would cause. She followed the sounds with her eyes, slowly crossing the floor towards the balcony doors, avoiding the shadows the fireplace cast against the windows on the western wall. 

Whoever it was had landed on the balcony with a muffled grunt—clearly not the most experienced sneak thief—but it didn’t give her any pause. She stood next to the doorway with her back flat to the wooden paneling as the intruder finessed the lock, this time having easier luck. Her hands shook as she clutched the hilt of her dagger tight, scolding herself for not changing the locks like she said she would. She closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer to the Divines as the door slowly creaked open, a shadowy crouched form creeping in through the night.

Fiona pounced immediately, yelling out in a mix of fear and anger, their bodies colliding against the door and slamming it shut. She swung her fist out first, knuckles colliding with the jaw of the trespasser before her other arm arced down, dagger ready to strike. Two hands caught her wrists, stopping her movements completely. The larger body moved to stand, jerking her closer. 

“_Augh_! Fiona!” A familiar voice. “It’s _me_!”

“Bryn?” she whispered, blinking in an effort to see his face in the darkness.

He pulled one hand away to yank back his hood, confirming that it really was him. An overwhelming abundance of emotions flooded over her at the sight of his face and her chest contracted tightly, breath hitching in her throat. Before she even realized what was happening tears were clouding her vision, quickly pouring over to slide down her cheeks. Her hands trembled as she dropped her weapon to the floor, her other hand gripping his shoulder tightly when her knees threatened to buckle from beneath her.

“I’ve got you,” Brynjolf murmured, his arms swiftly moving to scoop her up and hold her steady against him.

At first she clutched him in a desperate hug, thankful he was there—but she was so overwhelmed, self-conscious and unsure of where her more vulnerable emotions had come from. Yes, he had seen her cry before, but that didn’t mean that she felt completely comfortable shedding them in front of him. Still, she held onto him tightly, face buried in the curve of his shoulder as she openly sobbed.

“I—I had a nightmare,” she wept. Brynjolf’s arms tugged her closer, his nose nuzzling against the top of her head. “It was Mercer, at Snowveil Sanctum. When I heard the noises at the door I thought—I thought he had—” 

His arms tensed at her words and she could tell he was already feeling remorse. Still, she smacked her palm against his chest, gripping the leather of his armor to shake him slightly. “Don’t you _ever_ do that again.”

“Aye lass,” he hushed against her temple, hands caressing down her back and through her hair. “If I have to spend the rest of my days begging for forgiveness, I will—”

“You better,” she agreed, failing miserably at a tease. They stood there for a long while, just holding each other close until her tears subsided, body relaxing against his. It was a forgone conclusion, but she really hoped that he was there to stay for the evening. She didn’t want to assume anything, even now. 

He pressed a soft kiss to the side of her face, humming as he spoke. “What do you say lass, could you ever forgive a fool like me?”

“You are _so_ lucky that I love you,” she sighed.

Fiona froze in his embrace, realizing that she had said the words out loud.

Brynjolf’s arms tightened around her before relaxing, his soft laugh tickling the side of her face. “What was that?”

Fiona burrowed her face against his shoulder, feeling her whole body warm in embarrassment. “_Nothing_,” she said meekly, but it was of no use.

He carefully peeled her off of his chest and she reluctantly glanced up to meet his gaze. She had expected to find a teasing expression but instead she found him looking at her in a state of wonder, eyes sparkling, and lips slowly stretching into a wide grin. Even in the dimly lit room, she could see his own flushed cheeks—her sudden confession had surprised _him_ as much as it had her.

“You love me?”

Fiona released a shaky breath, nodding once. “Yes.”

Brynjolf steadily brushed back the hair from her face before framing his hands against her cheeks, fingers curling against the back of her neck to tilt her head closer to his. His initial kiss was slow, tongue gently coaxing her lips apart, it gradually deepening. One of his hands threaded through her hair, cupping the back of her head as he shifted closer, Fiona eagerly meeting him as she slid her arms around his shoulders. _Gods_, she never wanted him to stop kissing her, even if it meant she would die of suffocation.

He eventually did pull away, albeit slowly, almost reluctantly. Fiona found herself exhaling in a short gasp, breathless. Brynjolf was still smiling, expression delirious as if he had been drinking mead from her lips. It was irresistible—she closed the gap once more for a swift series of kisses that trailed from his mouth along his jaw and to the collar of his armored coat. Finally she pulled away, copying his grin with one of her own. Even so, she could still feel the flush of heat on her face and the rapid thump of her heart beating against her ribs.

“Please say it again,” he breathed, green eyes shimmering with an emotion she hadn’t seen before—almost like a brand-new form of excitement.

Fiona nodded, nuzzling her cheek against his hand as his thumb brushed along her jawline in an affectionate sweep. “If you’ll stay.”

“If I’ll stay she asks—_of course_ I’m staying,” he remarked with a chuckle. “That is, only if you give me a key. Can only stop breaking in someplace if I have a key, lass.”

She laughed, turning her head once more to kiss his palm and the inside of his wrist. With another nod of her head she reluctantly pulled herself away from his embrace if only to move to her desk where she kept a strongbox of valuables. Within she found the spare key for Honeyside, a small blue ribbon tied to the end—something she had been meaning to give to him for a while now. The timing seemed perfect with her confession of the heart. When Fiona turned to face him she found him tossing his discarded coat across the nearby chair, untucking his cotton undershirt from his pants.

“Don’t lose this,” she instructed, tucking the golden metal into his palm. “You won’t be getting another.”

Brynjolf nodded, covering her hand with his. “Consider this my most prized possession. Well, next to you…” His sly smirk faltered. “Not that I see you as something to be possessed—”

“_Bryn_,” she cut him off, leaning in to place a gentle kiss to his lips. “Its alright to say. I’m yours.” She caught his gaze and felt her heart flutter, a warmth radiate across her body and tingle run across her spine. “I love you.”

_Two times_. Progress.

“One more time?” he asked tentatively.

Fiona first ensured the key was safely slipped away in his coat before she wrapped her arms around him, kissing him sweetly and softly in the perfect way she adored. He kissed her back, two passionate kisses in quick succession. With another she broke away with the softest of whispers, “_I love you_.”

Without realizing she had been waiting her whole life to feel this way. She was in love and had no reason to be afraid anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


End file.
